


Intense or I'm Insane

by Arowen12



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Always Female Alexander, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Misogyny, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: She is born Alexandria Hamilton, after the library her mother whispers to her as Alexandria devours page after page. She is told of a library that once contained near-endless knowledge, a library that burned because of the greed of man. She decides she won’t be burned by a man.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler
Comments: 18
Kudos: 126





	Intense or I'm Insane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, we are here with another Hamilton fic. This idea has been building up in my head for a while and it's especially interesting because of the time period. Anyways, read on and enjoy!

X

She is born Alexandria Hamilton, after the famous library her mother whispers to her as Alexandria devours page after page. She turns to her with those eyes, the ones she got from her mother, and that is when she is told of a library that once contained near-endless knowledge, a library that _burned_ because of the greed of man. She decides she won’t be burned by a man; she will keep secrets and knowledge beneath her skin, the pages are hidden beneath the cover and let them judge what they see there.

Still, Alexandria is born a bastard daughter, she has nothing. No prospects, there is no trade that she might reinvent herself, no position in the army for which she might earn glory all because of her sex. No, Alexandria’s only chance to escape the status of her birth is through marriage, and one of love at that. She is pretty, has seen the way the boys stare but, her mother tells her this as she tells her many things with bitterness, beauty is temporary; words are not.

Then their father leaves with debt hanging on his shoulders a living shame, in his place he leaves his own burden. No longer does his long shadow protect her and Alexandria cannot afford to use only words when the boys’ resort to fists. James is furious when he sees the bruises but she tells him that he should have seen the other guys; he smiles but his eyes are dark thereafter with a hatred that isn’t Alexandria’s.

The sickness sweeps through St. Croix like its own hurricane, it takes and it takes. Takes Alexandria’s strength forcing her into the dust and the dirt beside her mother, the tarnish of her status is all the more real as she is held by her mother in their own sick. Her mother breathes her last and Alexandria wishes she could die there and then, the freedom of never having known the future that waits for her ravenous as the boys on the street.

Instead, she lives. They are shunted to their cousin; he leers at Alexandria deep in his cups and she presses her nose into the book in her hands like it might erase the sick feeling clinging to her shoulders. She gets her first blood and there is no one to go to, their father’s family has utterly rejected them, the women of the village despise her, she reads her mother’s diary and makes due as with everything life has dealt her. James becomes thunderous, no, he is not the roar of thunder he is the silence between each strike growing more and more terrible the longer she waits. When the cousin is gone and only the shame remains Alexandria finally breathes again.

It’s too early to start breathing apparently. The hurricane is a sudden thing, the quiet of the very life of the island and then the sky is blotted out by heavy clouds, the wind tearing at her hair, the walls shake around her as water seeps through the floorboards threatening to drown her, drown them both.

In the aftermath, the houses on the streets are fallen cards, rubble has replaced the world she once knew. Alexandria does the only thing she can she writes, it is a letter not to her father a figure that abandoned them, but to her mother. James finds it, reads it with tears brimming in his eyes that he hides poorly. Alexandria isn’t sure why but she lets him send it to the local newspaper under his name.

It is published. She holds her words and runs her fingers over the sprawl of words with something elated in her chest, it is a taste of freedom she never thought she might hold and suddenly it is hers. The others stare at James in the aftermath and there are whispers of sending him to college in the states, sending him away from her; if he is gone, she has no doubt that the first man to proposition her will gain permission.

She does nothing, says nothing because if even one of them can make it off the God-forsaken island it should be James, he has more of a chance than she ever will just because of what’s between his legs. The plate is passed around, and she hears her words on their lips when they give it to James; it’s enough for two tickets.

A sickness sweeps through the ship. Alexandria does not fall ill but she watches it consume James in the same way it consumed her mother, and then he is _gone_. They dump the bodies over the side of the ship and Alexandria watches the shroud-wrapped body sink beneath the waves, thinks of slaves and bondage. Are they all just a slave to circumstance?

She has been burned, pages crisped by loss, missing sentences. But she is not the library of Alexandria, she is something else. The tears dry, paper softened with water dries and so does she, Alexandria fills in the missing words with promises.

James should have been the one to arrive in America because Alexandria is a dreamer but she is also practical and that means one thing. It is not James who steps off the ship into the harbour, but it is not Alexandria, she picks the name Alexander and tacks it onto her shoulders like a rank, binds her breasts, cuts her hair close to her scalp and leaves her dresses on the ship.

Dressing as a man, being regarded as a man is different. Different in too many ways to name, though hearing Alexander is also different, but it is the small things she notices, she is deferred to, talked to not talked down to, she is served before the women around her; it is infuriating.

She applies to college amidst the rumblings of Revolution, the situation builds around her in pieces and words, taxes and wars, until she sees it as clearly as she has seen anything in her life, it is the eye of the hurricane. She writes and the name Aaron Burr wounds through her ears until she sees him on the streets, the Bursar’s words still stinging like a slap on the hand and she cannot help but speak to him.

He narrows his eyes at her tells her to, “Talk less, smile more.”

She’s heard the same words from drunkards in bars and men on the street all her life and to hear it from another man means nothing. Still when he mentions he’s an orphan she feels a sort of kinship and lets him lead her to a nearby bar and buy a drink.

A trio stumble into the bar and she watches Burr carefully, the way he sighs and stares at the three loud-mouthed men with narrowed eyes. They make their way over to the table and she observes, Lafayette who speaks with a lilting French accent and has a roguish aura about him, Hercules Mulligan a tailor with a kind face, and John Laurens who reminds her for a terrible minute of James sorrow and rage tied like a noose around his neck.

“If you stand for nothing Burr what do you fall for?”

She cannot help but ask and their eyes alight on her, study her and she feels like a specimen in a public autopsy. But where courage might fail her words never do and they come fast and hard, right with the need for freedom singing in her veins; they accept her easily enough after that.

The less said of Farmer Refuted the better. Alexandria writes her response like she is being consumed spitting sparks like a fire consuming tinder, she is not burnt, she burns. They enlist and amidst the blood and the shit Alexandria thinks for the first time that she might have been content with embroidery but it is a fleeting thought amidst the adrenaline that pumps through her veins and the words on her tongue.

Learning to live among men is _different_. She has never seen so much before and it is more than strength of will that schools her expression into neutrality as she works carefully around certain social standards. If she is the last to bed and the first to rise, they chalk it up to her drive and say nothing else.

Washington is a tall man, most men are taller than Alexandria, but he towers over her as she steps into his tent. Burr is there, her first friend and it is a strange twist of circumstance that they are meeting here again on the battlefield; for a man who pretends to have no opinions Burr is awfully transparent at times. When Washington offers her the position of his right-hand man (ha) she is tempted to decline, if she is discovered as a foot soldier they will send her home, but there is the possibility of treason to serve the General under false pretext. And yet, this is her shot and she cannot throw it away.

The war brings their small group of friends close; it is a knot tied with every battle tightening it, not a noose, but perhaps something sturdy like the knots the sailors tied on the ship. Lafayette often appears with alcohol questionably sourced and they pass the evenings in a warm camaraderie as Alexandria pends letters to congress and listens to Lafayette wax poetic about his wife, Hercules talks about sewing and she thinks the man would be happy all his life doing it, John speaks fervently about the end of slavery and she is always drawn in her quill abandoned on the desk.

The Winter’s Ball is strange on many fronts. Alexandria is certain she has never been in a room with so many people, nor has she been forced to wear formal men’s clothing before (Lafayette helps her with fond eyes and she loves him all the more for it). Then she sees Angelica Schuyler, she is radiant and Alexandria has a solitary moment of wistfulness, to be able to do that, dazzle and control a room with a smile, to twirl and feel a dress flare around her feet; but she can’t not anymore.

Alexander Hamilton has made a name for himself, but not as one reliable with the ladies, he is handsome yes, peach fuzz and he can’t even grow it, but most women will focus on other men that night for reasons they can’t quite quantify.

She introduces herself and Angelica stares at her with narrowed eyes for a long moment and Alexandria has a moment of panic as she realises, _she knows._ Alexandria smiles and presses a kiss to Angelica’s hand as she states, “You strike me as a woman who will never be satisfied.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean you forget yourself.”

“You’re like me. I will never be satisfied.”

Alexandria responds and her eyes are soft and pleading where they stare into Angelica’s. The woman studies her for a long moment before she loops her arm through Alexandria’s and leads her through the room.

“Where are you taking me?”

She cannot help but ask still half-dazzled by the twist and swirl of people around her. Angelica tilts her head as she guides them out of the crowded ballroom and into the chilly night air as she replies, “I’m about to change your life.”

“Then lead the way.”

Alexandria replies feeling as if she is playing with fire once more, the noose hangs loose around her neck threatening to snap at a moment’s notice with the wrong words. With only a suggestion, everything Alexandria has worked for could be undone. She has no ground to stand on, the hurricane can sweep her off her feet at any moment.

Angelica leads her to a small alcove, one in which they are hidden from view and are unlikely to be noticed. Alexandria glances around for as long as she can manage before she forces herself to look at the woman in front of her. Angelica isn’t smiling anymore, there is a serious expression on her lips as she reaches out to touch Alexandria’s chest.

“Why?”

“The only way I can socially advance.”

Alexandria replies honestly Angelica Schuyler is not a woman ignorant of the world around them.

“Because you have nothing?”

“Nothing, no status, no money, just my words.”

Alexandria replies and forces herself to stare into Angelica’s eyes, she isn’t sure what she is searching for. Maybe understanding though she won’t find the type she is looking for there. Angelica purses her lips and says, “You couldn’t publish anonymously?”

“And live with a husband who wouldn’t permit me to or spend the rest of my days with needlepoint? We are the conception of a nation and I mean to carry it to term and beyond.”

Alexandria replied and wondered if she had revealed too much. Her fears of what a husband would mean. How maybe she had already sworn herself to a life of solitude as to find a husband was to destroy herself, and to find a wife was the same end.

Angelica’s hand was warm on her cheek as she stroked the line of her jaw, Alexandria had always been a strange mix of her father and mother, enough that she could pass on the streets if she kept her hair short and her jawline clear.

“You have permission to write to me.”

Angelica stated but it was really more of a command. Alexandria blinked and questioned, “What?”

“I don’t want a husband who will ask me to sit at home, I want to do something with my life just the same as you Alexander. If we marry then you have financial security and a guaranteed secret, I gain companionship and the freedom to do what I want.”

“What about your family?”

Alexandria cannot help but ask even as her head is spinning with what Angelica is offering. A part of her wants to accept immediately, it is safe, safer than falling in love and hoping it lasts and remains sweet when she has seen so many women trapped in marriages like that.

Angelica’s features twist for a moment and she glances at the ball before she replies, “If you can make a name for yourself then it won’t matter Alexander.”

“Alexandria.”

She whispers into Angelica’s ear and pulls back with a smile that she can’t hide, not that she has ever truly been good at hiding how she feels. Angelica smiles and they walk back into the ball, Angelica introduces her to Eliza and the night blurs in the press of faces and the warmth of Angelica’s hand in hers as they dance.

Alexandria writes letters to Angelica, and ones for her sisters as well, pens letters to Congress as the war builds around her, growing in fervour as the winter melts into spring. Two months after she meets Angelica Schuyler at the ball, she asks her father permission to marry her.

Philip Schuyler has the expression of a man who has already made a decision throughout dinner as they talk about politics about Alexandria’s writing; she knows what his answer is going to be but can’t throw away her shot. She speaks of coming from nothing, or her mother lost, her brother lost, of her scholarship to King’s college, her published writing. After extoling her own virtues, she speaks of Angelica’s, of which there are many, and watches Mrs. Schuyler nod along with the sort of sappy expression her own mother got when she read those cheap romance novels.

He says yes. Before Alexandria can really consider it, she is pressing a kiss to Angelica’s cheek. The woman takes it surprisingly well, taking her hand in hers it is warm even in the damp of spring and for the first time Alexandria wants to burn.

The wedding is a quiet affair but she invites her friends and more than enough people show up for the status of it all. Eliza, Angelica’s younger sister (not the youngest Peggy, who is sweet and easy to talk to), gives the speech and she is genuinely happy for the two of them that much Alexandria can tell (later Angelica will whisper that she told Eliza who immediately understood).

Burr shows up and Alexandria grins at the man and shoos the others away as she asks about the woman he should have brought. She places a gentle hand on his arm when he mentions that she is dating a British officer, it seems the war has staked more claims yet on both of them.

The night of the wedding provides Alexandria with some new _experiences._

Then it’s back to the war and the summer heat is welcome to the cold even for how it strikes their soldiers down. With the summer is a change, Hercules goes back to New York and everything feels slightly off-kilter without the grounding presence of their friend. Then there is the absolute shit hole that is the battle of Monmouth.

Alexandria doesn’t lust for a command in the same way she might have if she was a man, yes it would give her a shot that she could use to boost her station, but she is also smart enough to realise that manning George’s journal has merits of its own. Still, that Charles Lee is given a command itches beneath her skin and in the aftermath, Washington takes one look at her and the quill in her hands and gives a direct order.

John Laurens isn’t a part of that order and when Alexandria complains John offers a powder-keg about to explode and for a terrible moment she can only see James’ body sinking into the waves and imagines it is John.

“Do not throw away your shot.”

She tells him, John shakes his head and kisses her forehead even as he asks her to be his second.

Burr is there on the dueling grounds and Alexandria wonders what it is supposed to mean that they keep meeting, maybe she is the one with fanciful thoughts spun by the books her mother read. Still, the words burst forth true and hot on her tongue that the lives lost on the field at Monmouth were the cost of Lee’s incompetence.

In the aftermath, Washington is furious and he tells her to, “Meet him inside.”

For a moment Alexandria is terrified but she squares her shoulders and follows the General. Inside he begins to lecture her and there is still a fire licking inside her veins because she doesn’t have Washington’s name, not his title, or his lands, she is nothing and her wife’s status depends on her ability in the war, her life depends on the war. He calls her son, she has never made a large protest over it, the name stirs no more anger than being called a bastard, if she were James it would be different. But women are as susceptible to anger as men and she cannot help but bite back, “Call me son one more time.”

It is cold and short, the fire flickering and dying suddenly in the grate and Washington pauses what he is doing to gaze at her with narrowed eyes. Alexandria _wants_ so deeply to reveal herself to the man, to take what comfort she can get but to do so would end it all.

He sighs and sends her home, for a short while, he softens the blow with.

She takes the dismissal with what grace she can and returns home to Angelica. Angelica whose stomach is beginning to swell with life. Alexandria’s hands cradle her wife’s stomach as she stares with wide eyes and asks, “How?”

“I called in a favour.”

Angelica states a promise to explain later as she presses a kiss to her lips and drags Alexandria inside. In the comfort of their small home, Angelica settles her arms around Alexandria and pulls her into a tight hug as she whispers, “Our son.”

“Angelica.”

She whispers the words are soft and broken and she thinks that this may be love. It is not what she has been told it should be, it not what secretive books have described it as, but it doesn’t have to be, it just has to be Alexandria’s.

“How _did_ this happen?”

Alexandria asks that night as she unwraps her chest carefully spooling the bandages in her hand and inhaling deeply. Angelica is on their bed undoing the stays of her dress she smiles coyly and says, “A family friend, he bares a passing resemblance to you,” she pauses and rises walking forward to place her hands on Alexandria’s arms and continues, “I want to keep us as safe as possible.”

“Thank you, and if you ever want to… I don’t mind.”

Alexandria knows she is blushing but she cannot help it as she glances at the floor. Angelica laughs, that deep laugh that makes Alexandria’s cheeks and chest warm like a furnace as she grabs her hand and says, “Come to bed. I need to catch up on sleep now, I can already tell this child will be a rowdy one.”

“Through no fault of my own.”

Alexandria jokes as she follows her wife to bed. Angelica rolls her eyes and replies, “That I doubt dear.”

Then she is called back to the war and given her own command. She meets Lafayette again and he grins and bumps her shoulder as they stare at the soldiers around them, abruptly she is reminded of the start of the war, they hadn’t been an army then, hadn’t a unified nation, but now, now they are ready.

She leads the charge and is bathed in blood but after a week of fighting there on a parapet stands a red coat with a white flag. It’s over. It’s only just begun.

Saying goodbye to Lafayette is bittersweet and he tucks her into his arms with a shake of his head so she can hide her tears, he laughs and says, “Mon cherie c’est d’accord. C’est n’a pas la fin, nous nous reverrons.”

Alexandria comes home and their son is born, he is so tiny in her arms and the tears spill down her cheeks. Angelica laughs pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she says, “We’re naming him Philip, I had to fight Eliza for that right.”

“Is she happy?”

Alexandria asks as she strokes her finger over Philip’s tiny cheek and glances at Angelica. She smiles rocking the babe slightly and replies, “John Church is a nice man, Eliza deserves a nice mine. You my dear, are not a nice man.”

“I should hope not.”

Alexandria replies with a grin as she begins to pen a letter of congratulations to Burr on the birth of their daughter, Theodosia. Angelica steps forward holding Philip in her arms as she bends over her shoulder and asks, “Just because the war is over, you’re not taking a break, are you?”

“You know me too well.”

Alexandria replies and presses a kiss to their son’s head.

A week later Angelica presses the letter from John’s father into her hands and she has that terrible feeling, the one in the ship’s bay, as her mother held her for the last time. Her hands shake as she opens the letter and she reads the words blankly over and over again as if that might make her understand them, but she can’t.

“I’m sorry Alex.”

Angelica whispers as she wraps her arms around Alexandria, she leans her head against Angelica’s arm and lets the sobs rack her body. It feels as if all she has touched has perished or left her, her father, mother, James, Lafayette, John. She wonders if it will ever end, if she will be allowed to keep something.

Alexandria throws herself into her work, she finishes her schooling and passes the bar exam at the same time as Burr, they even work next door to each other. She gets to see the man more often and she doesn’t hesitate to invite him over for a drink on occasion, he declines more often than not but when he does accept it’s nice.

Then there is the Constitutional Convention, she can’t help herself, she speaks for six hours on the benefits of a more federal-centric government, of the need not to revise the Articles of Confederation, but for a Constitution. When Angelica hears she laughs and rolls her eyes but helps edit her latest essay, one for the Federalist Papers which she has managed to rope James Madison and John Jay into.

Alexandria asks Burr, wants to give the man a chance to stop waiting and seize something for himself already. But he just as obstinate as every man she has ever met and Alexandria lets it be and instead asks her wife to write a few essays (they are of course brilliant).

When she is called to Washington’s current office, the one that will eventually she supposes become the President’s office, she has a hunch as to the purpose. Still she greets Martha, who presses a kiss to her cheek with a wink and she enters the office to see the ~~General~~ President standing in front of his desk. He begins to ramble and she muffles a grin as she asks, “Treasury or estate?”

“Treasury.”

Washington says with a grin and she grins back and sits at his desk and when he asks, she tells him about her son, watches the man smile. In the back of her mind she is already thinking about the economic state of their nation, the debt of the war, and the need for a strong trading partner.

Thomas Jefferson is a menace. Not only because he wants to fuck her wife. But also, because he is absolutely annoying and thinks he’s better than her, he acts like it to; she’s more than happy to knock him down a peg. But she needs to get her debt plan through and when Washington mentions the potential of being asked for removal from office in that disappointed tone Alexandria pushes that all aside.

She made a promise not to get burned so she doesn’t.

Angelica mentions going upstate with Philip and their daughter Eliza (they’ve agreed to adopt if they want any more) and Alexandria wants to desperately. But she can’t afford to let the debt plan fall through, Angelica sighs stroking a hand through her hair, it is longer now she isn’t as insistent on it being short.

“Eliza will be coming and Peggy.”

Angelica tries one more time. Alexandria smiles sadly and Angelica shakes her head with a sigh and presses a kiss to her head as she says, “Write to us. And next summer you’re coming no matter what okay?”

“I understand Angelica. I’ll miss you.”

“I know.”

Angelica states and leaves their office picking up the sheets to one of her pamphlets on women’s suffrage on the way out. Alexandria watches her go for a long moment before she returns to her work.

Maria Reynolds is a surprise and a welcome distraction as she listens to her story, Alexandria sees herself in the young woman. This could have been her future, a marriage she never wanted, trapped and unable to get out. She gives the girl thirty bucks that she had saved and walks her home.

“If you want a divorce, Aaron Burr will help you, pro-bono.”

“Truly?”

Maria Reynolds asks as they stop at a door and she turns to face Alexandria, she smiles and adds, “He understands.”

The young woman turns red suddenly and as she opens the door, she casts a sultry glance over her shoulder at Alexandria. Maria Reynolds is young, beautiful, any man would have a hard time saying no to her; she’s not any man. Alexandria misses her wife but she cannot throw her whole life away like that, not when it isn’t only her life on the line.

And she can’t take advantage of her like that.

Alexandria places a hand on Maria’s shoulder with a gentle smile and says, “Goodnight Mrs. Reynolds.”

Before the woman can call her back Alexandria turns and walks down the street. Sitting alone at her desk in their home Alexandria thinks of what she’s built, what she is still building. She writes a letter to Angelica and prepares for dinner with her political rivals.

The dinner is nice enough though Alexandria feels out of her element as she speaks with Madison and Jefferson, they all already know what they want and are going through the motions, like actors with a script. She gets the votes and they get the Capitol; and in the end it doesn’t matter where the Capitol is.

When she hears who has won New York’s seat she isn’t sure what she wants to feel. She settles on anger because it’s easy but before she can even leave their home to bang on Burr’s door Angelica wraps her arms around her waist.

“How could he do this?”

Alexandria asks her wife wondering why now of all times Burr actually stops waiting, he couldn’t have done that before? Angelica sighs into her hair and replies, “You just made one of the biggest deals of your career and he’s done nothing of note.”

“That doesn’t excuse how he did this.”

Alexandria argues and Angelica nods and replies, “It doesn’t. Just remember that dear.”

“I’m still going to yell at him.”

“I know.”

Angelica replies with a resigned sigh hiding a grin. Alexandria shakes her head presses a kiss to Philip’s curls and walks over to Burr’s office. He opens the door with a knowing expression and Alexandria raises a brow and asks, “Really? My father in law’s seat.”

“It put me on the up and up again.”

Burr replies with a shrug trying to look unrepentant but failing for the most part. Alexandria rolls her eyes and states, “No one even knows what you stand for.”

“They don’t need to know; they don’t like you Alexander. You’ll always be adored by the things you create but upstate thinks you’re crooked.”

Burr adds something gleeful to his expression and Alexandria wants to sigh and ask why men can be like this. Instead she says, “I’ve always considered you a friend.”

“I don’t see why that has to end.”

And there genuine hurt and concern. Alexandria sighs and reminds Burr, “You ran against my father-in-law.”

“I saw a shot and I took it. You would have done the same.”

It’s an apology as much as she can expect from Burr. Shaking her head Alexandria turns and called over her shoulder, “Good luck Burr, politics are all about opinions but you’ve always been good at avoiding those.”

When Alexandria hears about the revolution in France part of her feels joy at the prospect of what they’ve started, they’re the so-called cradle of revolution. Then she remembers that Lafayette as a Marquis is technically a noble, and they’ve been very ~~trigger~~ guillotine happy with the nobility.

Still, even with thoughts of Lafayette heavy on her shoulders she argues that America cannot openly support France, if they rock the cradle now it will overturn. Washington agrees and when Jefferson bites back about her friend she replies, “Lafayette knows how to handle himself.” She convinces herself that she believes it.

When Washington calls her to his office later with the news that Jefferson resigned, she is happy sure, but she knows that’s not everything. Then Washington drops the fact that he’s not running for President again and she feels her world shift beneath her feet, the swaying of a ship.

“Sir.”

She begins and Washington laughs and says, “Pick up a pen and start writing.”

Alexandria does one last time, arguing with him, the people, Britain and France, weakness. Washington dismisses it all and when she looks at the man, sees the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, the weary weight to his shoulders she doesn’t press again. He pours her a drink and she takes it with a nod of thanks and recalls the past few years through the amber of the liquid.

“Martha always told me that you were dealing with more than I could ever realise.”

Washington interrupts the silence swirling the liquid in his glass before his heavy gaze settles on Alexandria and he asks, “Will you tell me one last time Alexander, whatever it is, it won’t change my opinion of you son.”

“I doubt that sir.”

Alexandria replies dubiously and sips at her drink studying the man and watching the flash of hurt followed by confusion as he asks, “Is it related to your birth status?”

To her birth sure. She shrugs and replies, “You could say that. Sir, if I tell you this it will change everything, I’d rather we end on a good note.”

“Do you think so little of me?”

“The opposite I think so highly of you that I could not bear to lower your opinion of me.”

Alexandria says in response resolutely studying her drink. She hears Washington’s heavy footsteps stop in front of her and she looks up as he says softly, “Alexander nothing you can say will change my opinion of you. But I won’t push son.”

“Alexandria. My name is Alexandria.”

She replies quietly staring at the floor like it might shield her from the reaction of a man she deeply admires. Washington’s hand settles on her shoulder and her eyes jerk up searching her General’s face, he isn’t angry, his expression is confused and she sighs and explains, “The only way I could get off my island was to be a boy, the only way I could rise through society was to be a boy. But I’m not. I’m a woman.”

“Your wife?”

Washington asks as he steps back slightly, Alexandria tries to hide how much it hurts. She shrugs and says, “Angelica figured out immediately, she asked me actually. Our children are hers but not mine by blood. Would you rather I had never told you?”

“No, thank you for telling me Alexander- Alexandria.”

“I’ll go now sir if your want to talk about it later we can.”

Alexandria says the words heavy on her tongue as she rises to her feet and crosses the room towards the door.

“You are incredibly brave Alexandria, perhaps the bravest person I have ever met.”

Washington says and she pauses in the doorway to glance at the man, with a smile Alexandria replies, “Thank you sir, enjoy your retirement.”

It’s not even surprising that upon taking office John Adams fires her. It’s almost a bit of a relief, she returns to her practice, pens an appropriate response, and when Angelica tilts her head agrees to go on vacation with their children (four of them now what was she getting into).

She is at her office when they come, Jefferson, Madison, and Burr. They slink into the room like their shadows are dragging them into the darkness. She smiles pleasantly and wonders what they’re here for.

“We know.”

Burr states and her heart drops out of her chest.

“You are uniquely situated by virtue of your position to seek financial gain, to stray from your sacred mission.”

Madison adds and Alexandria can’t help it she laughs, enjoys the shock on their features as she turns and places a stack of paper on the desk as she replies, “Accusing me of Speculation? The papers are here, pay stubs, receipts, checks, I have them all. Is that to your satisfaction gentlemen?”

There is silence thick in the office for a long moment before Jefferson tilts his head with narrowed eyes and states faux-casually, “There are rumours Alexander. About you and your wife.”

“Yes?”

Alexandria asks genuinely confused as she leans back in her chair. Madison and Burr share a glance and it is Burr who adds, “Rumours that she is cheating on you Alexander.”

“Based on?”

“She’s been seen in the presence of multiple men.”

Madison adds with a frown and Alexandria grins as she replies, “Yes I know she told me. It happens when one walks down the street. I know the actions of my wife gentlemen, what she does with her time is her own.”

“And the rumours that your children are bastards?”

Burr says quietly not quite trying to hurt but not trying to soften the blow obviously. Alexandria narrows her eyes at her first friend, her political enemy and replies, “They are my children and that is all that matters. Also, two of them are adopted so I think calling them bastards is rather rude.”

“Do you not understand Alexander? Rumours only grow.”

She studies Burr for a moment, he looks genuinely upset and with a roll of her eyes Alexandria crosses her arms in front of her chest and adds, “These rumours can’t hurt me.”

“But there is one that could?”

Madison adds and she stares at the three of them for a long moment before she replies, “There is, I’m sure you’ve already found hints of it if you’ve been digging. You sent the dogs after me that’s fine. But when you find out would you be able to tell the public?”

“What do you mean?”

Madison asks and Alexandria considers it for a long moment in the silence of her office. This could ruin her, could ruin her family. But they’ll keep searching she’s said too much and it was bound to come out soon. After all, if anyone were to look, they would notice that there was never an Alexander Hamilton, but there was an Alexandria Hamilton on the island of Neves.

“Swear on your honour not to tell a soul?”

“No one else was in the room where it happened.”

Burr says and Alexandria sighs and studies them for a long moment, Angelica is going to be furious at her, she replies, “Your political opponent, the right hand of the General, is a woman.”

“What?”

Jefferson squawks, literally, Alexandria shakes her head and pins the man with a glare as she replies, “I was born Alexandria Hamilton. Do you think I would have been able to do anything as a woman? They still can’t even vote. So, I did what I had to. Is my answer to your satisfaction?”

“That’s not the word I would use Alex.”

Burr says and she says, “So?”

“The people won’t know what we know.”

Jefferson replies, her reputation isn’t the only thing at stake. Alexandria nods and the three men leave the room, Burr pauses on the doorstep and says quietly, “Alex you know rumours only grow.”

“Not this one.”

Alexandria says and Burr stares into her eyes for a long moment before he nods and leaves the room.

She goes home and writes a rough draft of everything, a strange mix of biography and confession which she titles, “The Suffragist Pamphlet” it doesn’t go beyond the first draft. Angelica finds it and holds her in her arms when she tells her.

“We’ll get through it; we’ll do what it takes to survive.”

Angelica says and Alexandria presses a kiss to her lips in agreement. Angelica smiles and wraps her hands, they are slightly smaller than Angelica’s, in hers and leads her to their room away from the study. The hurricane passes, the fire that threatens to burn becomes soft in Angelica’s hands.

Philip comes to her while she is working on a pamphlet for the abolition of slavery, she is writing with John in mind his loss heavy and weighted with the loss of Washington. Her son, he takes after her too much sometimes, rushes through an explanation about a duel, George Eacker calling her a bastard and a scoundrel (how bland, children are crueller and more creative).

She wants to tell her son to let it be, war is a piece of the past for her but she places her guns in his hands and tells him, “Tell your mother first and see what she says. Alright, so this is what you’re going to do, when the time comes shoot your weapon in the air it’ll put an end to the whole affair.”

“What if he shoots?”

Philip asks and she thinks of the soldiers bleeding out on a cot. Alexandria strokes her son’s jaw and replies, “If he’s truly a man of honour he will follow. You don’t want an innocent man’s blood on your hands. Speak to your mother first don’t underestimate her ability to deal with a situation far better than I can.”

“Okay.”

The next time she sees her son he presses her guns into her hands with a grim expression and states, “Mom made him apologize.”

“She threatened to destroy his social standing?”

Alexandria asks as she takes the guns from her son and tucks them away, they are heavier than she remembers in her hands. Philip grins and replies, “Yep, he crumpled like a piece of wet paper.”

“Probably for the best that you didn’t face him. You have your whole life ahead of you Philip.”

“Thanks, Pop.”

Philip says and Alexandria smiles at the spot where her son stood.

Eliza, their daughter, gets sick. Alexandria hovers in the doorway feeling as if there is a physical barrier in front of her, she wants to walk forward brush the hair out of her daughter’s face, press a kiss to flushed skin. But there is a certainty to this that is the ship’s cabin, their home on St. Croix.

Three days later Eliza is gone.

They move uptown.

Alexandria stays inside, she lets her hair grow long threaded with grey as it is, she wears the dresses Angelica tailored to her size and takes the children to church. No one recognises her there with the children. Angelica and Alexandria talk for long hours and she recalls how much she hates illness, there is no choice, no way to fight, it is not a fire one can fight, put out, or light. It is the water, drying you up, or drowning you, either way, painful and out of their control.

The election is something distant she reads about in the paper as Alexandria curls up with her wife and reads about Jefferson and Burr, she reads the letters asking for her opinion, her words and then the results come in; a tie.

She has always put America first, Burr waits always and they need strong leadership after Adams, Jefferson acts on his views. She writes her support of Jefferson and fears a mistake, one that was unavoidable.

The first letter arrives from Burr and confirms her fears. It is angry, furious, it is a fire threatening to burn everything she knows to the ground. Alexandria replies in kind feeling awake for the first time since her daughter’s passing. And yet, every step the noose tightens around her neck until the duel is arranged.

Alexandria cuts her hair short, pulls on the britches and tights on once more, early in the morning as she pens letters to her family. Angelica wakes and wraps an arm around her shoulders and she presses a kiss to Angelica’s wrist as she replies, “An early meeting at dawn.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Sleep well.”

“With your children in the house?”

Angelica replies with a grin and a final kiss to her head before she turns and leaves. Alexandria stares at the page and the salty tears that fall there as she writes, “Please bury me as I have presented myself to the public. But let it be known when it is safe what I have always been.”

She has done too much to let that part of her remain unknown history; Angelica will understand.

They ride across the Hudson at dawn, the pistols are heavy in her hands as she watches their seconds confer tugging at her glasses and staring at Burr. Alexandria cannot let this man orphan her children and yet.

The count begins and before they reach ten, she is aiming at the sky. The bullet lodges itself between her ribs and she can see Burr’s shocked face and smiles sadly at the man as the pain consumes her and she is rowed across the Hudson.

Angelica is by her side along with their children, she presses a kiss to her wife’s lips presses letters into her hands and thinks of Washington on the other side, James there ready to protect her again on the other side, John Laurens leading a battalion on the other side, her mother on the other side, Peggy and her daughter Eliza on the other side.

She is ready to burn, burn all the words left in her, she will be the ashes that will plant renewal, that will start something new.

Alexandria Hamilton dies.

A hundred years later the last letters of Angelica Schuyler confessing to the nature of her ~~husband~~ wife, Alexandria Hamilton, is found and revealed to the general public. There is outrage, disbelief, so many emotions and thoughts it is hard to capture them, but the thought that persists is that one of the Founding Fathers happened to be a Mother, the other is that one’s gender isn’t a limitation, it isn’t a burden, it’s a torch to carry, to light the way for others.

X

**Author's Note:**

> And historians debated forever whether Hamilton was transgender, a lesbian, or just really committed to the act.  
> I hope you all enjoyed, it was really fun to explore how gender can affect the narrative, especially in a historical one. Also, I died every time I got to write, her wife. I was listening to the musical as I wrote this, and it lined up so that the last part was written with the last few songs and I got #emotional. Comments are always super appreciated, thanks!
> 
> Mon cherie c’est d’accord. C’est n’a pas la fin, nous nous reverrons - My dear (using the female version of dear) it's okay. It's not the end, we'll meet agin.


End file.
